Getting Real
by soundsaboutright
Summary: "Kurt is back, and with him the magic and all that is good."  AU. Kurt and Blaine had a sweet and quite magical encounter as children on a playground, now they meet again as young adults.  Sequel and tribute to Are You Real? by TexasTurtleFan
1. Blaine

Author's note: Okay, so I this is meant as a tribute and a sequel to Are You Real? by TexasTurtleFan (story id: 7103046, you can find it in my fav stories list as well). Which is basically the sweetest thing I've read (you can find my um... enthusiastic review somewhere around there;)...)

So you really should read this in advance before you read my story, but I don't feel too bad about pushing you to do so, because, I promise that you will not regret it. After all, it has inspired _me_, who never thought I would find myself writing AU, to well, do just that, just because that story made me so happy that I couldn't yet let it go.

I won't even try to copy the style, or the general marvellousness of it, my story is different for many reasons, but I just want to pick up the storyline, take up things that inspired me, and let them play out.

(Don't be puzzled by the period marks in some lines, that is just me trying to create paragraphs to make this a little more readable)

So, this is set about twenty years later:

* * *

><p><strong>Getting real<strong>

Blaine's really thought he'd finally understood. Or at least had accepted just how these things seemed to work around here. Around everywhere else.

He obviously hasn't, though, because he finds himself as riled up about it now as every freaking time before. When he should just _know_ by now.

.

A strained sigh escapes him when he steps out of the chief editor's office. Just... why do they have to do this _every freaking time_? Whenever Blaine dares, _dares_ to hope that Richard has finally processed that you can't just write music reviews in the same dry style as, say, a business report, he will call Blaine in, go over his work, and point out its defects. Or what he thinks they are. Then Richard will suggest to change some wording or description, will object to Blaine's choices, will query and complain, just to let Blaine have his way in the end and print the original article.

Such a freaking farce. People and their behaviour, Blaine all but growls in his mind. Their put on rituals, their habits, their empty actions. This is _so_ tiring.

.

He shuffles over to Natalie's desk, letting himself fall and slump into her vacant chair. The red-blonde girl stands by the copying machine absent-mindedly twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. The thud of Blaine sitting down heavily gets her attention, though.

"Darling! Oh, don't tell me... Didn't he just see the magic this time?"

She is laughing and Blaine only snorts for an answer.

"Oh, well, you must be patient with him, after all, he means well, and inside that narrow framework of his capacities, I think he really tries."

That gets another sigh from Blaine, albeit an already lighter one: "I suppose he does."

He bites at his lip for another moment, then lets those thoughts go.

"Hey, Nat, you know the concert-thing I wrote the review for, at this little bar?" She brings up an expectant eyebrow at his sly smile. "Well, guess what, I actually landed a gig myself, as someone cancelled for next Sunday."

Her grin is wide and he joins her in it, his voice colouring up. "Yeah, well, so I asked the owner, Christina, lovely lady by the way, if she wanted me to fill in, and she was okay with it. Nothing big, though, they close early on Sundays, but I already got Charlie to pair up with me. So, if you care to stop by, we'll be playing some songs, just my keyboard, my guitar, Charlie and me... What'ya say?"

Natalie lowers her eyes in a mock tutting manner.

"Blaine, seriously, as if I'd ever miss a chance to fangirl for you and your gorgeous voice..."

"So it's a deal then, next Sunday at Chez C's." Blaine beams at her and she nods in the affirmative.

He leans back in the chair and lets out a long breath, while Natalie resumes her copying activities.

Blaine glances around the office and stifles a yawn, but realizes that it's mostly his eyes that are tired. Maybe there's something wrong with his new contacts, he muses. He probably should just stick to his glasses. Blaine wills himself to not give in to the impulse of pressing his fingers onto his lids, because he knows that will only make things worse. So he ends up languidly rubbing the bridge of his nose instead, when some movement at the far end of the editorial office catches his attention.

.

Peter is there, talking loudly and with agitation as always, and it seems like he is showing someone around.

A closer look at that someone makes Blaine sit up straighter in his chair with interest.

Then he actually gets up to lean onto the low partition wall, unable to avert his eyes.

Natalie, who follows his stare, provides with a chuckle:

"Oh, that's Peter's newest recruit. Kurt Hummel, I believe. Pretty much snatched him away from our big competitor, you know the one. He's to be the new head of the online fashion department, you know, blog and stuff."

When Blaine speaks, he realizes his mouth must have been slightly ajar.

"Isn't he just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Natalie smiles good-naturedly, but nonetheless turns a thoughtful eye at her friend and colleague. Although Blaine's mind is mostly occupied otherwise at the moment he can just tell what she is thinking.

The thing is, even if Blaine _is_ rather prone to enthusiasm when he feels comfortable, this here still presents itself a little out of line, because when it comes to people, he doesn't usually fall for someone this quickly, or voice it like that.

Her laughter is soft.

"Oh, well, sure, he's cute, and dresses adequately for his new position, really a treat to look at..." She snickers some more. "But judging from your glazed-over expression, you've just seen something like a full-blown apparition. Or an angel, for that matter..."

"What did you just say?" Blaine does a double take, as something about Natalie's words has triggered... well something. Natalie only gasps for an answer.

"What did you say his name was?" His tone is full of urgency, but he still can't bring himself to look away and at his colleague.

"Why, Hummel... Kurt Hummel, I believe..."

"Kurt." The sound does something to Blaine.

And then it falls into place.

Of course.

Kurt.

His playground love.

A smile spreads on Blaine's features.

At least that is what he has come to call Kurt, once Blaine got a little older, and understood things better. Well, maybe not better, but differently.

They had met several times to play, then Blaine's parents had moved away. Blaine had been devastated.

Still, he had pushed it away after a while, to go on, pushed the memory down, deep below the surface.

To have it all coming back to him now.

The monkey bars. A boy that just wouldn't be shoved around. His book. Blaine's book of magic. The way the world looked back then.

Blaine stands, dumbfounded and in awe.

He couldn't have told the story yesterday, couldn't have remembered it like this, but now that he's seen Kurt, it is all so vivid in his mind, that he almost feels like he is six again.

And he recalls suddenly, he even owns a picture.

He found it some years ago, when he first moved, and it refreshed his memory in a strange way, although not as completely as seeing Kurt now does. That picture. Two little boys, one curly the other fair-skinned. Taken on their second meeting, when Kurt had been allowed to visit Blaine's place to play.

Blaine's best friend, then, Kurt.

Of course, others assumed that title over time, just because they were there when Kurt was not anymore. But Blaine remembers staring at that picture the entire night after he'd found it, reminiscing, and that's when in his mind Kurt became his playground love.

So, Blaine kept the picture, put it in a box, when again, he put the memories away as well, put them into a hidden place inside.

Still, ever since, over all those years, he has remembered Kurt from that place deep down, even if the memory's been elusive, playing tricks on him. After some time, Kurt's been not much more but the sound of his name, faceless, formless features, like someone at the edge of your sight you glimpse at, only to have them vanish.

But what has remained is the absolute knowledge, anchored inside, that Kurt has been the essence of beauty, the very idea of it for Blaine.

And that is what he'd recognized only now, what had felt familiar, before he recollected the name and the story to it.

Kurt.

Well, he'd never really known Kurt's last name to begin with, or didn't care to learn it back then, because of what importance are last names to a child, really? Maybe Blaine's mother would remember.

But he can't be mistaken now, can he? This _is_ Kurt? _His_ Kurt?

Blaine lets his gaze wander over the young man some more.

That same pale skin that seems to somehow glow from within. That flawless chocolate hair. Eyes of which Blaine can't tell the colour from this distance, but that he marvels are bright and remarkable.

.

"Blaine?" Natalie's voice sounds a little worried, and Blaine almost registers that on some level. But before he even knows it he is moving.

When he steps up to the two men, who are now engaged in a polite conversation, he tardily thinks to check his expression, so that maybe his mouth won't at least be hanging open.

He wants to say 'excuse me' or something like that, to make them notice him, but he just can't find his voice.

At least him just standing there gets their attention as well.

"Mr. Anderson, can I help you with something?" Peter's voice is mildly strained, but Blaine doesn't really become aware of him.

He holds a shaky hand out to Kurt, who looks at him a little startled, but, with a glance to Peter, takes it nonetheless.

The softest hands. The words flash through Blaine's mind at the contact and immediately connect with his memory.

Then he hears his own voice and it sounds somewhat strange and distant to him.

"Are you real?"

Peter whispers a frantic: "Mr. Anderson!" and Natalie snickers softly behind Blaine: "Darling, is that even a valid pick up line?"

Kurt only looks confused but doesn't let go of Blaine's hand either.

Blaine takes a breath and masters a better grip on himself this time.

"God, this will be so awkward, if it turns out I'm mistaken, but let me try again..."

He searches the young man's eyes and leans in a little. I must seem like a total nut job, already, Blaine thinks. Well, then at least that didn't leave too much room for his next words to make it worse.

"I know what you are. You are a fairy."

He can literally hear Peter's and Natalie's jaws drop.

But Blaine doesn't wince or waver and continues in a calm voice: "Only that you are not, you are actually a dragon."

And he can see Kurt's mind work behind those eyes that he knows now are still of that mesmerizing mix of blue, green and grey. But he cannot tell if Kurt is recognizing him as well, or just trying to figure how to get out of that situation the most elegant way possible.

"And you are...?"

Blaine's heart drops together with his look.

Kurt doesn't remember.

Of course, it was a long time ago.

His voice is small:

"Anderson, Blaine Anderson." He wants to add 'never mind' when he realizes that the young man opposite of him is still holding his hand.

Kurt's tone is tentative.

"The wizard?"

At the edges of his sight both Peter and Natalie bring up hands to their foreheads, but Blaine just feels a smile spread over his entire face.

Now Kurt falters, probably becoming aware of the situation with Peter, who _is_ his new boss, after all, and lets Blaine's hand go at last.

His eyebrows arch.

"Excuse me, I... I don't really remember coherently, it just keeps coming back in fragments, sort of...Blaine."

Kurt says his name as if to reacquaint himself with the sound of it, and telling from the spark in his eyes, it touches the right cord inside him.

Blaine can only nod happily. Stupidly.

Natalie cuts in: "So, you two know each other?"

Blaine looks at her, dazedly, even if that is not that complicated a question, some voice inside chides.

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Peter takes up that moment to make himself heard again.

"Well this is all very nice, but I am not here on my leisure time." He pauses dramatically, to emphasize his irritation. "So if you could just postpone this ...reunion, or whatever it is, until after our little tour, I'll make sure I won't keep you much longer, Mr. Hummel." Kurt raises his eyebrows at Peter's piqued tone and makes his affirmative tilt of the head immediate and polite. Natalie actually hurries away under Peter's impatient glare, mumbling something about 'things to do'.

Only Blaine somehow still can't be bothered to care about Peter's tapping foot or the fact that he ultimately is _his_ boss, too.

He has eyes solely for Kurt, as the young man glances back over his shoulder, joining Peter who has started to walk. "I'll just come back here, when I'm done?"

Blaine isn't sure his words reach Kurt in time, before Peter's booming explanatory voice fills the room again. But his eager nod is unmistakable: "Yes, please."

.

He must have stood a moment, simply gazing after them, because suddenly Natalie is at his side again.

"Tell." She only says.

And Blaine does.

* * *

><p>Peter took Kurt away from Blaine and out of his sight the better part of an hour ago, and still there's been no sign of their return. Blaine bites his lower lip absently. Peter really does love the sound of his own voice. Blaine knows. After all, he was on the receiving end of one of those tours himself when he started to work here. And sure, it is a nice enough gesture to have the boss demonstrate he actually cares about each new employee. Or the ones a little higher up on the career ladder than the regular clerk, that is.<p>

But then it just is another one of those farces, really. Because what Peter actually demonstrates is, that he likes to boast about his achievements and make himself sound important. At lengths. But well, he is the boss. And Blaine has to repeat that over and over in his head, to keep him from doing something stupid right now. Like, inquiring after them. Together with his performance earlier, Peter would just love another disturbance. Blaine's back to growling silently, but only shortly, as his exhilaration just won't have anything get him down for long right now.

.

So rather, as he has no other urgent business for the day anyway, he chooses to just wait, enduring Natalie's chuckle at his expression and he muses, general condition, whenever she passes him during one of her unmotivated strolls from the copying machine to her desk and back.

When some restless pacing of his own succeeds only in annoying his co-workers, the ones who actually try to work, Blaine sits down on a spare chair next to an enormous artificial plant, that makes him sneeze several times with the dust on its leaves. But once more he can't bring himself to mind much. As far as he is concerned, it is somehow fairy dust again, and that makes sneezing bearable. He chuckles at himself. Yes.

The magic is back.

He feels the awareness of it prickling beneath his skin, like it has never been away. Blaine cocks his head at the plant.

Maybe the magic itself never has been away, really. He just couldn't see it like this for a long while.

His longing for it at least has never left him. After all, there is a reason why Blaine Anderson's concert reviews are sometimes referred to as, well, 'colourful'.

Not that he still earnestly thinks he sees magical creatures everywhere. Or that he talks about it anyway. No. At some point reality just became so harsh and obviously void of it, he didn't really dare believe anymore.

He remembers crying his heart out as a thirteen year old boy, when 'Hook' was on TV. Because he so desperately wanted the world to be magical like this, when his surroundings at that time just made it so hard, so impossible to imagine, impossible to see it, to have faith. He couldn't find his own way back. Instead he felt he became a little tight and dry inside.

Of course his parents had played a big part in that.

So he would stop talking about all that magical stuff, eventually completely, but that didn't mean that the longing for it was gone. He just searched for that something to move him and spark his passions in places that were a little safer and a little less obvious to his parents, like listening to music. Together with books and movies, that he didn't any longer mention to his parents, all these became his rather private pleasures. He became a rather private person himself, back then.

Blaine takes a deep breath.

Still, as long as he kept on playing the piano and took his lessons, his parents seemed to even be fine with him learning the guitar as well, and so eventually a new field of possibilities opened itself up to him: His very own music.

Of course, Blaine doubts strongly that his father has ever heard one of his own songs, but then again, it doesn't matter, because Blaine himself has had them to hold on to.

So, even if Blaine did have to declare his music, his soul, his love, to be a mere hobby before his father's scrutiny, this _hobby_ was what brought him through college and allowed him to make promising and fostering contacts with people during his small gigs at bars and cafes. Contacts that now come in handy with his job.

This freelance job here, that taking meant disappointing his father one more time. Because you don't major in journalism to be a music critic, when there's so much more serious and important stuff in the world to write about.

Well, Blaine's decision to move here and take this job had somehow sealed that he finally stopped trying to please his father and made a decision for himself and his sake alone.

And if that also meant that he had to work some mornings at the copy shop near his apartment to make ends meet, then Blaine is fine with that. It is so worth it, because he gets to go to concerts and events and even get paid for it.

So his life really kept getting better and better, the longer he stayed here, making friends among colleagues and musicians, finding his own rhythm to his own life. And eventually he was able to see so much beauty again in the details and moments of this busy city.

.

But boy, never did it feel like this, so all over and all throughout him, running with his blood in his very veins.

All now, because Kurt is back. And with him, the magic, and all that is good.

Blaine falters in his reverie, and has to hold back a chuckle and a sigh at himself. Well, 'back' only in the abstract sense of back in his life, his mind, his every fibre. Because as for right now, Kurt still has yet to return to where Blaine is waiting for him.

Blaine looks to his shoes. What if he actually spooked Kurt out earlier and Kurt decides to bail and not come back? Blaine shifts his weight on his seat. Maybe Kurt will just quit his new job and leave the city altogether? A snort. Sure, Blaine. Just relax.

.

"Blaine?" That voice. Wrapped around his name. Blaine jumps to his feet, and that actually gets a laugh from Kurt. A laugh. Blaine is in heaven. Or rather, swallowed up in that bubble of happy that effectively tunes out everything else around the two of them, as soon as he meets those eyes again.

"Sorry, but that took a little longer than expected..." Kurt shrugs and Blaine blinks, and Kurt laughs some more. "But at least now I can say I am very well acquainted with the facilities of, well, the entire building. So..."

Blaine watches the words leave Kurt's lips, entranced. If Kurt is startled for a moment, he covers it up:

"So, do you want to grab coffee, or something?" By the end of that question Kurt actually squirms a little under Blaine's relentless gaze, and Blaine checks himself. And nods vigorously. Kurt gives him a shy smile, and they walk towards the elevators just round the corner and press the button for down.

After a moment of waiting Kurt shifts a little on his feet. "So..." His tone is light. "I remember now. I do. The playground, your book of magic, those three or so times when I visited you." He glances at Blaine from the side, head tilted, that smile still tugging at his lips. "You really talked a lot back then..." He squints at Blaine as if waiting for him to take the hint but all Blaine can manage is to nod again. Kurt chuckles silently, but the fingers of his hands intertwine before his body, rubbing at one index finger, a little nerves showing.

By the time the elevator arrives and they get in, the silence threatens to turn uncomfortable, as that legendary setting that seems to own the monopoly of awkward silences inevitably takes its toll.

Kurt laughs quietly again, hums a little, only to have Blaine turn to him in an impulse that makes Kurt start slightly. Blaine knows his own lips are trying to form sounds before his voice or mind can catch up, but the way Kurt just stares back at his face and mouth suddenly has Blaine wondering if Kurt is under his spell just as much as he is under Kurt's. And that Kurt only is so much more successful in maintaining a semblance of composure and control over it all.

At that, Blaine's voice finally catches. "We could..."

The sound of the automatic doors opening cuts him short and he falters again, losing himself in Kurt's eyes below raised eyebrows. Kurt doesn't stand particularly close, but still Blaine thinks he can almost feel that breath leaving Kurt's lips ghost along his very own skin. Must be wishful thinking.

Blaine brings up his shoulders a little in embarassement, as someone else gets into the elevator, and they step out hastily and don't stop until they have left the building, to come to a halt on the sidewalk of the busy street, where Kurt looks to Blaine, at last, unsure in which direction to turn.

Reliably the contact of those eyes makes Blaine's heart stutter again, but he gets himself together this time.

"We... we could go to my place as well..." He sees Kurt tense slightly and hurries to add: "To talk, really. Talk. And I promise I _can_ talk and I _will_ talk, I..." His hand motions aimlessly. "I've got coffee and frozen cake and it's not far anyway..." He lets the words run dry. Blaine has made the suggestion with the most innocent motives, he believes, just because it is a possibility, and he wants to have Kurt for his own, and be the only one to have his attention. But listening to himself it dawns on him that you _could_ argue how that offer might be seen as mildly inappropriate. Or a little forward.

On a more subconscious level, following the wave of his own hand, he has noticed how the strip of sky he can see behind Kurt's head has an alarmingly dark and muddy colour to it, and this brought another thought to his awareness. "I think it's gonna rain soon anyway."

Kurt looks up as well, and acknowledges the statement, but shrugs his hesitation. "We could go to a cafe..." Blaine feels his cheeks colouring. Of course. There it is. You don't just go home with someone you've only met. Or met again.

He actually stammers. "Yes, but meant, I forgot, I just remembered... " Oh, god, and now he has to actually say _this_. For the fracture of a second he debates if he should just keep it to himself, damn the consequences, and agree, but his tongue is faster. "I... stupidly left my window open this morning... and...oh, my, this sounds like such a lame and made up excuse, but it's actually true..."

It is true. He does forget. And, living in an attic apartment, last time the weather caught up with him it ruined a book he's left splayed open beneath. And the carpet. You'd think he'd remember to shut the window afterwards, but no, not Blaine, obviously. The smile on Kurt's face is rather polite now.

Blaine shifts his weight and bites his lip again, then an idea hits: "Or I could go home and we reschedule this for in half an hour at a cafe of your choosing?"

Kurt studies him for a moment longer and Blaine can feel the flush rise to his ears under these eyes.

Then Kurt huffs and lifts his shoulders again. "Oh, well. No. It's alright, I guess. I can come with you just as well, I wouldn't know where to go, anyway." Something loosens in Blaine's chest: "Yeah?" Kurt laughs again at the worried expression Blaine must present him with. "Yeah." Yet Kurt is quick to add: "Well, we can still go to a cafe afterwards, I mean, later, then." Now Kurt is biting his lip and Blaine is utterly distracted. "Okay, good. Good."

Very smooth, Anderson, that voice inside pipes up again with sarcasm. Blaine's eyes close for emphasis to summon his focus, then scurry and scan the street for a cab. He would normally walk the short distance, but with those clouds and this strange indefinable feeling of urgency inside... he'd probably manage to get lost on the familiar route he walks_ twice_ each day, in this present state.

He waves and a cab pulls over. Blaine holds the back door open for Kurt then climbs in after him, not without noting again just how gracefully Kurt moves in everything he does. When Blaine turns to the driver to tell him their destination, the older man cuts him short with a bark. "Are you drunk?"

"What?" Blaine back pedals, struck. Then he faintly remembers his manners. "Why, no. No! Why?" The man first grunts then chuckles.

"Well, never mind, just got the look about ya..." Blaine gapes, and the man continues, unbothered now. "Very well, where to, then?"

Blaine blinks several times, still dumbfounded and gives the answer automatically. His brow furrows and Kurt snickers beside him. That brings him back.

.

He turns to Kurt, only to be taken in under again. That bubble claims him once more, and time stretches as Blaine can't help but delve into.

Kurt is so unbelievably close beside him, his bent knee only inches away from touching Blaine's.

Blaine swallows. And he is positive he stares again, stares at those perfectly manicured, white hands with those slender fingers intertwining in Kurt's lap, standing out against the dark colours of his clothes. Blaine takes a second or two longer, to fully take in and appreciate the picture before him.

Kurt's outfit is simple, yet looks neat and quite expensive. Pants, dress shirt and vest, all perfectly fitted to hug and hint at Kurt's body in a dizzying kind of way, and Blaine must remind himself to stop staring at those shoulders. All parts of the ensemble are in dark anthracite shades, bringing out the grey in Kurt's eyes more than the other nuances at present.

Blaine glances at Kurt's face to check, and finds Kurt is silently staring back at him, eyes wide, but not with unease, rather indulgent and waiting and maybe wondering a little. Blaine's gaze flickers over Kurt's mouth and jaw line and lower. The impeccable dark grey shirt closes high on Kurt's neck, which leaves only a little skin there and on his forearms to contrast with its coal colour. And Blaine's never thought he had a thing for forearms in particular, but he is sure he just gasped, even if he made no sound that was audible above the humming of the car's engine.

This small expanse of naked, where the rolled up cuffs of the shirt won't reach. Forearms so white and with skin so smooth and that soft shadow of hair that makes them look boyish enough. But then those wrists are not at all delicate like the elegant curve in which Kurt holds them would suggest, but are broad to convey a promise of natural strength that takes Blaine's breath. There's enough to remind him of the pale, small boy back at the playground, who just pushed back, but there's so much more to discover about the man he has grown into ever since, so much more of a man, who rests inside this beautiful body, simply letting Blaine look at him for now, even if it brings a most flattering blush of pink to the skin along and below perfect cheekbones.

Blaine's gaze drops back down to hands folded in Kurt's lap, to marvel at how the promise of those arms is continued in their shape. And he must be as much as caressing them with his eyes because suddenly, Kurt's fingers jerk and then they open a bit, uncurl, and the back of Kurt's hand gently settles on the seat in the space between them.

Blaine sincerely hopes it's an invitation and that, please, he read it correctly because his own hand is already moving.

When it makes contact with the soft pads in the palm of Kurt's hand, tentative at first, then venturing and stroking along one finger, a tiny part of his rational mind scoffs at the magnitude of the surge rising inside him, dryly reminding Blaine, that this is _only hands_ touching, and that he is 26, and should be beyond that out of proportion kind of reaction.

But all the rest of him disagrees at once, and fervently so. He doesn't want to be beyond that, ever.

He takes Kurt's hand into both of his now, turning it over, and ghosts a finger along and in between knuckles, the feel suddenly so intimate to him, that he blushes. When he glances up Kurt is giving him the strangest look, chest heaving with silent effort.

And inside Blaine something shifts and he's aware that his adoration is not only that of a child anymore, no longer purely innocent. It burns with a subtle claim to it now, of the selfish kind, and of the physical.

Blaine doesn't know where the courage comes from, or if it is rather recklessness, but he finds himself leaning in to kiss Kurt.

It is chaste, in the most caring way, more a gesture than anything, a statement of all that is playing itself out inside Blaine. Not an attempt at seduction, not in that sense.

Simply lips pressed softly to the corner of a mouth, and still Blaine's head is spinning as jolts of electricity race trough him exploding all along his skin.

He pulls back and opens his eyes, blinking away the dizziness.

.

And he watches how Kurt is about to draw back further and maybe argue, but then something he must be seeing in Blaine's eyes obviously keeps him silent, keeps him there.

Blaine doesn't know how this could even happen, what has gotten into himself, can't begin to fathom how this would look to an outsider. He just knows what he feels, even though he cannot name it, a fuzzy form of awareness, just the knowledge that this is exceptional and doesn't follow any rules he thought he knew.

But now, against the mirror of Kurt's eyes, random questions from the edges of Blaine's mind keep forging themselves into shape.

Is he kidding himself, here? Kurt's lashes flutter.

What is with this rush? Is it just that he likes the idea of it all so much, that it makes him blind for signs he shouldn't be blind for? Can Kurt even feel the same?

.

The haze lifts momentarily as a cough from their driver – the slight annoyance in it might suggest it was not the first one – calls for their attention. Blaine turns towards the man to realize they have arrived. He shakes his head as if to sober up a little while he fumbles numbly for his money, certain his face is beet red. The older man's expression is a mask when he takes the notes from Blaine, but Blaine thinks he can hear him chuckling under his breath and muttering something along the lines of youth and how guys, it's only early afternoon. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

Blaine's legs feel a little stiff as the two young men get out of the cab and he leads the way to the entrance of the building where his apartment is. Again, they walk silently and he only glances back to Kurt ever so often, as if to check he is still there, still following, wonders if he should say something, but Kurt doesn't meet his eyes, so he keeps walking, staggering a little at points.

It starts to rain softly, and they hurry the last steps inside.

When they get into the narrow elevator the silence starts to weigh on Blaine again, and he swallows and takes Kurt's hand, just for the sake of its feel. It floods and buries him under again. But then Kurt lets their joined hands swing a little, playfully between their bodies, and by the time they arrive at the top floor, both are laughing silently to themselves, and Blaine is sure that memories of sandboxes and tree castles are on Kurt's mind as well.

He reluctantly lets go to let Kurt into the small attic apartment and when he closes the door behind himself he releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They turn towards each other and Kurt's hands dangle loosely by his sides, moving forward and back now without Blaine's clasping to them.

And Blaine wonders if this is the moment when they should pounce and lash into each other bringing hungry lips together or if he should offer Kurt something to drink, so that they can sit and talk. And then pounce and oh, whatever. But the moment just stretches and they just stare.

"Your window?"

"Mm?" Blaine blinks. "Oh!" His body jerks and he races out of the room, the sound of more and more heavy drops against glass now permeating the buzz of heart beat in his ears. He closes the window and checks the others with a quick glance. Then he stumbles back into the room to Kurt, who stands as he has left him.

And yet again no pouncing follows. Just Blaine, without a conscious mind to make him, stepping up slowly, stretching under Kurt's wide eyes and again placing the softest kiss on the corner of Kurt's lips.

This little contact stays the only one their bodies make, hands coming up but keeping a shy distance; still Blaine senses how Kurt's frame goes rigid, even if after a second Kurt's perfect mouth begins to move lightly against Blaine's in response, and Blaine forgets to breathe.

Then Kurt pulls back and Blaine sways and almost loses his balance, rolling back from the balls of his feet, that gentle touch of their lips having been all that has given him grip, all that has held him up and in place.

Kurt's voice is almost cracking, having been used so little over the last half of an hour.

"I don't do this." Another flutter of those lashes. And through the renewed haze in his mind, Blaine can just guess what Kurt saying here. Usually, Kurt probably means. Kiss someone he barely knows anything about. Go home with him, even, and so quickly.

"I know." Blaine's tone is soothing. Of course there is no way that he can actually know. But then, somehow he just does.

"I mean, me neither."

Kurt looks at him strangely and laughs, then slowly regains some spirit, his hands gesturing aimlessly.

"I mean, can we even do that?" His eyes are flickering, and Blaine doesn't entirely know what to make of it. "I mean, Blaine, what are we doing?"

Kurt falters, and for a second Blaine panics that he is about to turn on his heel and storm out, leave. But instead Kurt finds his composure again and simply sits down a little gingerly onto Blaine's couch. From there he just looks up to him, and Blaine knows there was a question, but his brain still can't manage to form words. So Kurt goes on, his tone tenderly reaching out to Blaine.

"It's just...this is kind of weird, somehow, I mean the way you look at me, it's just so out of proportion, so completely unfounded..." At that Blaine's look actually drops to his feet, but Kurt hurries on: "It's not that I don't like it, don't believe that for a second, even if some part of me thinks that means I'm being naive, very much so and stupid and inappropriate, but... but we can't build this on a childhood memory! It's just not rational. And...I feel like I can't live up to it, that I can only disappoint you from here."

Some distant part of Blaine's mind processes and even gets what Kurt is talking about, thinks the same, in a way, with his fears kicking in, the threat of losing that magical feeling again after this rush is over, the pain of it he knows too well... still, he cannot fathom what would ever need to happen that Kurt could disappoint him. That just doesn't seem part of the concept.

Kurt has been studying him again, his hands now once more intertwined in his lap, forming something like a little shield between them. His statement is crisp, but his voice is still warm and so compassionate, that Blaine suspects that he is not the only one, that Kurt wants to comfort with it.

"I don't want to kill your buzz, but you don't know me, really."

That strikes a chord inside of Blaine. It doesn't hurt, like his mind ponders it could, but brings him the glimpse of an idea instead.

To know Kurt.

That feeling of knowing so much already without being able to back it up with actual facts, but still wanting to know every single thing about him that there is to know and more.

Blaine blows his breath out carefully through his nose.

And what if this is all it comes down to, all that there is to it? To his longing for the magical, his longing for that something that drives him, touches him, that he never seems to be able to put his finger on.

That it is just a deep interest in the utmost, the innermost beauty and the truth of things, of people, of a lover's mind, body and soul? Even if in this context once more, the 'just' just so isn't justified.

Blaine's mind leaps.

A claim, a need for something that defies logic or complete explanation, for something that yet simply and absolutely feels... real.

Huh. It is one of those fleeting moments when Blaine just wants to voice that sound his lips undoubtedly form against the feeling of being so strangely let in on something after the longest build up. Even if the result might not be spectacular or revolutionary, new or even coherent, but somehow, something settles.

.

By then, Kurt huffs a little to get Blaine's attention again. He sounds self-deprecatory as he searches Blaine's eyes with a lopsided smile that seems as much a plea as it is a shrug.

"What if after all, I turn out to be just human?"

Blaine's mouth closes and opens, moving voicelessly, as he probes and considers the sensation that those few words give him. The edges of his sight swim but the center slowly becomes clear.

And he finds the emotion is made of the very same feelings as before, strikes the same chord, only stronger now, to resonate down to his very core.

Comprehension makes up only a small part of it, wordless yet final, but he adds it all to his preceding train of thoughts.

Then a smile spreads across Blaine's features, and it comes from the deepest levels of him, there were those words have touched him. Where Kurt touches him. His voice resounds with the sentiment:

"I think, that would actually be the most magical thing of it all."

.

As Kurt's eyes grow wider with his words, Blaine sits down beside him, and reaches for his hand.

And then he just holds it and doesn't let go for the longest time.

.

* * *

><p>Okay. I must. A few words:<p>

1. This has to end here, because that dialogue was the frame that I wanted to give the story. But I am hereby actually promising another chapter from Kurt's POV by tomorrow, because throughout writing this, so many new ideas came to me, of things that want themselves said as well;) So it's not over yet;)

2. I know Blaine borrows a lot from Darren here, but I feel, that was the case in Are you real? as well, and even if I think I'm generally quite able to tell the two apart, this is meant as a celebration of all the awesomeness that is Glee's characters as much as the wonderful persons portraying them, because what they do and how they do it keeps me hoping for a better world;)

3. I didn't actually want it to be this long, and I've been wrestling quite a while with this, but Blaine as a madman drunk on love kind of took a course of his own;) So I kept those paragraphs it in for good measure. And although it really turned out very differently to the piece that inspired it, I hope you enjoyed reading it a bit.

4. Oh, and no, I didn't cry over Hook as a thirteen year old. I mean, who does that?;) Oh, well, okay, I did. Like a baby.

6. And I know. Chez C's, really? Anyhow, look Christina, you own a bar now. Cheers.

7. And, yeah, I know as well, oh window, what a convenient little plot device you are. But this is my world and they have to do whatever I say. When in other universes it takes a bird dying for them to get together, I can leave a stupid little window open, can't I;)

8. Sorry to be talking so much this time;)

9. As always, please review! I get so happy over each little line I get from you!

7,777 words!


	2. Kurt

Author's note:

As promised, another chapter.

Shorter, but that just wanted itself written.

* * *

><p>They have been talking for over an hour now, like something gave, broke away, melted; and then the words wouldn't stop flowing.<p>

Relaying their lives in a nutshell.

Blaine's become really talkative, as if a switch had been flipped, and Kurt enjoys looking at him opposite of himself, where Blaine has sat down in an armchair next to the couch, one leg hitched up loosely over the side rest and a plate with a piece of half frozen cake on his knee. From the way he is gesturing with the fork in his hand, eyes impossibly bright and sparkling, one wouldn't guess it was only coffee they've been drinking. Kurt smiles to himself. This is the mood of a good wine. But then again, Kurt muses, they don't need any, he wouldn't want any, wouldn't want anything other than this right now.

Blaine's richly coloured voice, and his expressive features.

.

Kurt can see the boy he knew in Blaine now once again. That dark strand, curling into his face, having come loose from his impeccably modelled hair over his agitated manner of speaking.

The very melody of that speech, his quick wit parading refined words with the easiest charm, when still he stumbles through it with that unbridled haste of passion.

The way how that piece of cake on his fork travels from plate halfway to his mouth, then back to the plate, never reaching its destination, because Blaine is so caught up in their conversation, that the thoughts and ideas and things to say just keep coming in between.

.

And how he held Kurt's hands.

Kurt's heart warms at the mere thought.

They aren't holding hands right now, since they decided they wanted to eat something, and Blaine sat down in the armchair to be able to look at Kurt more comfortably while talking.

But Blaine had been holding Kurt's hands the entire time before that, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

And Kurt remembers how much he had liked it back on that playground, remembers thinking the thought back then of how it had felt so nice, but can't seem to retrace the emotion that had gone along with it, in the face of this powerful new one now, of holding hands again with Blaine, and what it does to Kurt.

So much has happened to Kurt since those days and he is not the same. Then, it was the first time someone had held hands with him. Now it feels exceptional for different reasons altogether.

People have held his hand since. But, in fact and with time passing, holding hands had become neglected over being able and apt to do more.

.

The thought brings Kurt's awareness back to the man so close to him that Kurt's foot could actually touch Blaine's under the low living room table, if Kurt only let it. He doesn't.

Instead, Kurt has his eyes sweep over the other one's sitting form once more exploringly, down from his ankles up to this mouth; and by now Blaine has finally managed to get a bite of cake in between lips lightly closing around the fork, and Kurt doesn't want to ponder why that makes himself stare in the way he is sure he is staring.

.

This here is different, after all. Of course there have been moments, during this short time since they have met again, when Kurt was temped to let the impact of the moment take over. The way Blaine looks at him gives him chills and sends shivers all along his skin, in a good way, a very good way. Even if a small part of his mind can't be convinced that it should be like that. Can be like that.

Of course he has been aware of that attraction between them, almost achingly, feels drawn towards that man he knows practically nothing about with a force that keeps said part of him worrying in the way it does. Because Kurt never has been the kind to lose himself with someone so quickly.

Infatuation, yes, maybe, the romantic idea of it. But not going home with someone the first night he met them.

Kurt shifts in his seat at a small oblivious sound that Blaine makes in appreciation of the cake.

And for a moment his train of thoughts is interrupted, but he finds it again eventually.

Going home meaning going to bed together. He doesn't judge people who do, for whatever reasons they choose, but he always thought it just was not for him. He tried some time, but didn't go through with it.

Because ultimately none of that had that quality he's been looking for.

That sense of certainty, or intimacy. Light and easy yet profound and serious in the best way possible.

.

Like it is here in that room now.

Kurt swallows a bite of his own cake and washes it down with his espresso, relishing how on his tongue thawing cool meets hot, and sweet mingles with that tart dark taste into the perfect mix.

It is here, he repeats to himself, and that is what makes this different.

Because Kurt just _knows_, that what is flowing underneath makes sure they won't risk what they have, what they could have, will have, over the rush of a passionate encounter.

Kurt rearranges himself slightly on the couch.

Well, maybe, that very same thing flowing underneath would make sure, that what they have and could have never actually would be at risk, even _if_ they gave in to a... That reliable censor inside cuts the thought short there, but not before Kurt feels heat rising throughout his body.

.

Just then a loud rumble picks this very moment to make itself heard and both of them start.

The rain outside has build up into a massive storm, all the while they have been talking.

The deafening sound drags on, renewing itself, and Kurt watches Blaine's eyes widen, his shoulders moving slightly up ear wards. Blaine jerks, as yet another crack of thunder resounds, puts a bite of cake into his mouth and mumbles soothingly to himself around it.

Kurt is sure that must be the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

He laughs, immediately captured, voice incredulous:

"Blaine, are you afraid of thunderstorms?"

Blaine turns troubled eyes at him, and blinks a little as if to check himself. He lets his look sink to the plate together with the fork.

"Well, I can't say I like them too much." It is not much more than a grumble paired with a sigh.

The flutter inside Kurt solidifies into the warmest feeling of endearment. He tilts his head to the side, resuming a mock expression of reprimand:

"But Blaine, a great wizard such as yourself, what could that bad, bad weather possibly do to you?"

Now both are laughing and Kurt can see some of the tension leave Blaine's posture. Then Blaine actually leans back, to point the fork at Kurt, features lighting up.

"You know, about that, I think I finally figured out how my magic works for me..."

Kurt can only smile at the twinkle in those brown eyes, that doesn't cease now over the next roll of thunder, and remind himself to keep breathing. "And how is that?"

Blaine jabs the air some more with the fork, leans back further, comfortably even, and makes his lips into a thoughtful pout while his eyes narrow at the ceiling for a moment.

"The magic is in the beauty of things." Blaine speaks in a serious explanatory tone, all the while overdoing it a little, so that his own amusement shows over the big words he uses.

"So magic is made of beauty just as beauty is made of magic." He raises his brows cleverly.

"And beauty is made of truth. Not a truth that bothers too much with facts, but with the essence of things." Blaine meets Kurt's eyes with a nod and sparkling eyes and concludes:

"So that makes magic the thing that is ultimately most real to me. That feels the most real."

Kurt puts his own finished plate to side on the table, and suddenly feels a little naked without it on his lap, so he folds his hands there instead.

"So, magic is real?" Kurt's tone is amused, but mostly he just wants to prompt Blaine to talk some more in that captivating manner with Blaine's cheeks colouring continuously.

"Well, it's what's real to me. I know beauty is not an objective thing, just as truth isn't and reality isn't when it comes down to it.

I can only see this world, my world, through _my_ eyes. And if I want to put a pink frame around the world that I see, so then be it." Blaine shrugs and his eyebrows dance.

"So I choose to see magic, to call it that, all the things that touch me. So... magic is real to me." Another light movement of his shoulders. "The magic is in me."

He drifts, then adds as an after thought, giving his voice the most dry matter of fact tone.

"Well, then of course, really, because I'm a wizard."

He tries to hide the ironic twist around his lips, but then gives up, and they both grin at each other. Kurt laughs:

"Oh, so the wizard has finally gotten his powers?"

Blaine cocks head to side, nodding to himself and at a spot above Kurt's head before he meets his eyes genially:

"You know what? I think he has."

"Good. Then use it." Kurt's voice is warm and affectionate; he has his head propped up in his hand, his elbow on the side rest. He realizes his expression must be nothing short of dreamy, but Blaine has lowered his eyes in thought lost momentarily in the echoes of their words.

"Oh, I intend to." Blaine speaks without looking up. There's light resolution in his voice, and contentment over it. He pushes at his cake with the fork, then glances up to Kurt, only to halt midway, as he seems to do a double take at something. Some moments pass, the only movement being from Blaine's breathing, his eyes glued to the plate again, fork stuck in the remainder of his cake. A debate is on his face, probably whether he should say what has come to his mind, or not. His half-smile twitches unsurely for an instant.

But then he finally looks up, and his eyes are of a darker shade than before. So is the chuckle in his voice that almost doesn't waver.

Kurt swallows before Blaine even speaks.

"Kurt, did you just invite me to work my magic?" A surge of heat strikes Kurt, and rises to his cheeks immediately. "Because it sounded like it..."

Blaine is looking at him again much like he did all those times before, like before he kissed Kurt, but there is something added to it now, a more conscious form of wilfulness, a deeper hint of purpose.

Kurt's mouth opens and closes again, the blistering flush of his skin spreading slowly but steadily everywhere, very much in time with the smile on his face, before he can think to stop it.

And then he just doesn't. And decides to let it unfurl.

.

* * *

><p>Please review! (If you've gotten this far;)...)<p> 


End file.
